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lovesickeros · 5 months

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☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

#genshin impact #genshin impact yandere #genshin yandere #neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #arlecchino x reader #yandere arlecchino #yandere arlecchino x reader #furina x reader #yandere furina #yandere furina x reader #fic tag #pats neuvillette this noodle dragon can be so pathetic #aiming for pathetic desperate and slightly guilty. it gnaws at him knowing he's keeping you like a bird in a cage #esp if you react extremely negatively hes like a kicked puppy #not outwardly but internally hes a MESS. sobbing crying wailing #furina and neuvi sopping wet kittens u found in a cardboard box in an alley #vs arle thinking abt all the crimes shes going 2 commit in the process w/o an ounce of guilt. blackmail? check. kidnapping? check.#a little murder for flavor. as u can see im coping horribly w being practically snowed in rn i need 2 be put down #its like 4 degrees out rn (fahrenheit) and getting colder ueueueue i am dying..........#only thing keeping me going is my furinameow plushie coming. eventually. staying strong just for her.................#also needs 2 be mentioned all the stories r separate ksjfkhdsf #no not everyone in fontaine is yan and trying 2 kidnap sorry for getting ur hopes up..#yet #anyway u cant convince me arle isn't bribing (or just straight up forcing) her agents into doing stupid shit so she can “save” you #and make you owe her #two silly goofy little creatures vs the personification of gaslight gatekeep girlboss (heavy on the gaslight)#also split this up in 3 parts bc. lol. lmao. im not writing 9 characters at once goodbye #also all the masks do actually have significance i have an entire essay on why i gave each animal to specific characters okay

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54625 · 10 hours

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Happy pride month to every single time Tubbo aggressively called Fit gay in a way a straight person definitely couldn't get away with and Fit laughed so hard in response just completely flabbergasted

#thinking about “so you're not homophobic anymore?” “shut the fuck up gay boy.” *fit laughs like hes just had the wind knocked out of him*#and “you're GAY. fucking GAY BOY. you're the gayest fucking boy I've ever seeen. so gay i can barely say it with a straight face #oooo you want to have gay sex with Pac ooooooo“ and Fit's just silently fucking DYING the whole time #honestly two of my favourite qsmp clips of all time #qsmp #fitmc #tubbo #morning crew #<look i have no tag for specifically tubbo and fit so

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immediatebreakfast · 9 months

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A lot of things happened today, a lot of horrible things. A full circus of errors orchestrated by the narrative to serve the high end of tragedy. Everything thrown to this poor young lady who just wanted to get married, and live happily.

And yet it's incredible to read how Dracula practically organized the worst way possible to deliver the last blow to poor Lucy.

Every action, and horrible moment translates into a domino effect that traps Lucy in her own house, surrounded by death, and then utterly alone.

Dracula is merciless as we have known. The poor mother with the wolves, those babies only knowing pain and then death, even the Weird Sisters as horrible as they were are subjected to this man's orders and treatment. Plus, all of the locals of Transylvania being terrorized for centuries.

Then it comes Jonathan, and now Lucy.

All of Dracula's actions feel full of rage. Rage of being foiled, of seeing how his target keeps on living despite being utterly drained of blood two separate times. He was capricious with Lucy in Whitby by capturing her nightmares as he drank in leisure, but now it became about power over a life.

"but I did not fear to go to sleep again, although the boughs or bats or something napped almost angrily against the window-panes." - Lucy Westenra.

Our dear Lucy doesn't fear the nightmares anymore, she doesn't fear the darkness, nor is worried about the fog inside her head ordering to do things that cause her harm because Lucy is now surrounded by love, by medicine, by people that care about her.

She knows about the horrors, about the nightmares, about the harm that has been inflicted upon her. However, lucy doesn't fear that anymore, with her beautiful garlic wreath around her neck, healthy, and clear of mind she doesn't fear.

And what happens when it's clear to Dracula that Lucy doesn't fear his power?

"I went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing, except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its wings against the window."

This single moment, this tiny moment of simply looking at Dracula directly, it's probably the drop that made the glass explode. This is all speculation of course, but just imagine the miriad of emotions, questions, and decisions that traveled through Dracula's brain in that single moment.

The girl, not dead, full of life, eyes as clear as the morning sky, with a wreath of garlic flowers (mountain ash to repel) around her neck looking right at him without a shred of fear... those wretched peasants arming themselves with their knowledge thinking that they could survive him. The young solicitor with the crucifix, denying him of what is rightfully his, and striking him down with a simple shovel.

What does she deserve after this? Death. Death to her mother, death to her loved ones, death to herself... or maybe something worse.

This ancient evil got so angry that this young lady was holding so much to her life that he orchestrated a living nightmare to kill her.

Because who is this mortal human to deny the orders of a lord defeating time itself?

#He straight up exploded #If Lucy not dying when he tries to kill her made him boil in rage #I don't want to know what would have happened if the Count had decided to pursue Jonathan #dracula daily #dracula #count dracula #lucy westenra

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leadandblood · 3 days

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(source)

#Hey so like what if I frew up. What if I just straight up died actually #im so unwell it's unbearable #tom's terror compilation #thomas jopson #the terror #the terror bts #bts #how is he so pretty when lying dirty and dying on the ground

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nevertheless-moving · 4 months

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“Shit,” Lu Ze swore. History monks were not, generally, given to vulgarity. But, given the circumstances, it was more or less the only appropriate response.

Lu Ze swore again, more creatively this time, as the distortions around them became increasingly unsettiling.

“What happens now,” Vimes rasped, still cradling the corpse in his arms.

It is a strange thing to mourn yourself.

But he was just so small.

Carcer giggled helplessly in his restraints. “Should be interesting, huh.”

“Oh, be quiet, you vile man. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?” Another monk snapped.

“Nope,” Carcer said, with an obnoxious popping of his lips. “But I’ve got a few guesses.”

“THIS IS ALL WRONG,” Death said.

“Yes, we know,” Lu Ze sighed, rubbing his brow. Reality splintered further, the surrounding troops, which before appeared distorted as if by mist, now simply appeared distorted. Vimes’ stomach twisted in empathy and revulsion.

“I LOATHE TIME TRAVEL” Death said, approaching the Sam Vimeses. The older, living one scowled defiantly, pulling the small corpse away.

“There’s no time for that,” Lu Ze said sadly.

“HE IS DONE,” Death agreed. “REALITY CAN ONLY TAKE SO MUCH.”

He turned empty eye sockets towards the monks, as if to glare judgmentally. “PARTICULARLY WHEN IT HAS ALREADY BEEN TWISTED UP LIKE THIS,”

Vimes shuddered as the reaper swung his scythe, passing through his younger self without slowing down. A terrible chill fell down his spine, but the vague unsettling form to the world around them settled into a more familiar pattern. Cracks still ran through the length and breath of the sky, ground, and people.

“FIX THIS,” Death commanded the monks. “BEFORE THE AUDITORS GET INVOLVED.”

“Right,” Lu Ze steeled himself.

He took a slow, oversteady breath. “Alright people, get ready—we’re —we’re going to make another trouser leg.”

"Now?? Here?"

“We’re not prepared.”

“ARE YOU MAD?”

“What about—”

“It’s too big a change—”

“Just do it!” he snapped. “Unless anyone has any better ideas!”

A moment of crystalized hesitation, then the monks got to work, spinning glittering devices and furrowing their brow in concentration.

“I’m sorry,” VImes whispered, shame-faced, “I tried—”

“It’s not your fault. And it doesn’t matter anymore,” Lu Ze said brusquely. “Now hold still— this is going to hurt. A lot.” He reached a hand forward, then paused.

“Sorry about this,” he whispered. “But sometimes we are called to live through things we would rather not. And sometimes... we are called again." He tapped the center of the blood soaked Commander’s forehand.

“Wha—AAARRGH

from this au

#sam vimes #Discworld #my au #Nightwatch AU #discworld au #When Vimes woke up his...younger corpse was gone as was Carcer.#The splinters in reality were concentrated in one section of sky.#It was...uncomfortable to look at but a slight relief over the sight of dying men being bisecting by a dying reality #Gotta focus more on the unwilling romance protaganist part of this au because the start is a straight up eldritch tragedy #Actually the romance protaganist part is also kindof tragic but in a slightly funny way #The start is just. Sad.

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